


every part of us is unholy

by greekdemigod



Series: Roisa Deadly Sins Week [5]
Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F, Roisa Deadly Sins Week, implied murder / abuse, the God King is a gross scumbag, warning for sexual assault (groping)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 18:58:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10577484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greekdemigod/pseuds/greekdemigod
Summary: In a kingdom where the God King's consorts get slaughtered when they fall pregnant, Luisa is the one thing standing between her ex-fiancée and certain death.[Au of choice + wrath.]





	

**Author's Note:**

> There I am again. With my sister's birthday party on Friday and my hangover making me feel like something barely human all of yesterday, I wasn't able to write anything these past two days. It's a shame, but sometimes life just intervenes that way.  
> I was originally going to use this idea and universe for the pregnancy au, but since I liked it so much more than my idea for today's au of choice I'm using it instead! I'm not entirely satisfied with this, but it's the best I can do for now with only one day to work on it.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

It’s a beautiful day to save lives. Not many days are ever beautiful in this kingdom, even more so in this particular city, but today manages to be just that. The dusking sky above the metropolis bleeds in oranges and pinks, darkening to reds and purples in the distance. On this side of the city, all the streets are kept clean, the flowers and trees in their beds enjoying regular upkeep, the high-rise buildings sleek and polished.

Luisa stares ahead at the God King’s palace and purses her lips. She won’t enjoy this night until she has saved those lives.

Her dress rustles as the wolfhound loping beside her sidles up to her, sensing her distress, to nudge his head against the palm of her hand. His fur is soft, soothing. She scratches him behind his ear.

“Are you sure about this, Lu?” Kristen has been quiet the entire journey, but now they are close to the rendezvous point where they will separate—and with that part of the plan set in motion, there won’t be a way back anymore.

Luisa looks across at her friend, at blue eyes so startlingly like her ex-fiancée's that it always hurts to look in them. “Yes. I’m sure.”

Kristen nods. “Okay. Just be careful, will you?”

“Aren’t I always?” She manages a crooked grin despite the nerves boiling in her gut.

They don’t speak again the rest of the way, and don’t either when they hug each other goodbye. Luisa hopes fervently it’s only temporary goodbye, but the tightness in their arms wrapped around each other betrays that they both fear the chance she won’t make it out alive.

Luisa gives the wolfhound one last pat, lets him lick her fingers, then clenches her hand around the strap of her satchel and walks away. Her bag bounces hard against her hip with every quick-paced step; her utensils jostle and rattle together.

The palace instills a quiet fear in her, but a resounding disgust and an overwhelming rage as well. Not once has she found the sight of it to be breathtaking or awe-inspiring. If it wouldn’t be a great waste of resources, not to mention deadly, she would raze it to the ground herself.

It is big and loud and jarring, dozens of thin spires breaking the view of the horizon apart, so tall that it can be seen from anywhere in the city and even a little bit beyond its borders. Ostentatious is what it is, not beautiful or impressive. Chilling because it was built on the backs of hundreds of poor men, women and children that either didn’t survive the labor or were killed to safeguard its secrets; the still air surrounding the palace is said to echo with their death cries.

She hates him. Hates everything the God King stands for, everything he has ever done, what he has made of this kingdom. Once upon a time, so the outlawed history books proclaim, this realm had been known as the United States, and its people had been free if not happy.

Luisa squares her shoulders and reminds herself that she has been preparing for this for long enough that it will go off without a hitch; it _must_. Luisa plucks a badge out of her bag and steps up to the guards at the gate.

“Doctor Luisa Alver, reporting for the requested check-up of the God King’s consort,” she states clearly, handing over the badge without having to be asked. She is a highly-praised, efficient doctor catering to a clientele that requires discretion — something that chipped away at her soul every day for years, because these were awful people — all so that one day she might be noticed by the God King himself, the most awful of all.

The guards regard her badge with intense scrutiny, then proffer it to a scanner that swallows it up, then spits it back out dinging with an affirmative sound. It gets handed back to her.

“Step aside here, miss.”

One guard rifles through her satchel to make sure she isn’t smuggling in any weapons or poisons, the other checks her body for the same. The hands grope and squeeze inappropriate, and the fury in her gut blazes hotter knowing that there is nothing she can do about him right now.

The God King’s guards are above the law of the common folk.

“All clear,” they both say, almost simultaneously, and she is allowed through the gate. If only they knew what they’d just let in...

She strides with purpose across the wide, paved pathway between two tall hedges, up a marble staircase to the double front doors of the palace. There she is stopped once more by another pair of guards, as if she could have magically gotten anything lethal back into her bag or onto her body in the past minute.

Everyone knows the God King is the only one with magic in the whole world.

With ground teeth and pursed lips, she suffers through another thorough checking.

“Are you bringing her up, Michael?” asks the guard with a hand on her ass, laughing in her ear as he squeezes. She wants to cut off that hand so bad her fingers itch.

The other guard, sporting an unruly mop of curls and a cocky half-smile, shrugs his shoulders and grabs her by the elbow. If this is how they treat an esteemed doctor, she really won’t be able to stomach finding out how others are treated. The consorts. The servants. The slaves.

She shivers with cold dread.

The interior of the palace is a clashing mixture of contemporary and ancient styles, pillars and rugs and tapestries sharing rooms and corridors with plasma walls and state of the art technology. A headache thumps at her temples—it’s what saves her.

The God King’s power radiates everywhere in the kingdom, an ever-present presence in the mind, but in the palace it’s thick. She is supposed to feel it like a heavy hand on every thought, strong fingers gripped around her chest. He is supposed to be able to read her every thought now, bend her will to his wishes, even kill her if he should so please.

Luisa is faint with gratitude for the implant at the base of her neck that stops his influence and makes her able to feed him whichever thoughts and emotions she wants. A healthy dose of natural subservience towards him, a lesser dose of feeling insignificant compared to him, some fear and awe and purpose. She feels his interest in her deepen and offers him things that would be burrowed deeper, like a lifelong wish to serve him personally and childhood memories of taking care of her father.

She can feel him deem her not dangerous and retreat from her mind enough that she can go about her work without interference.

So busy inwardly, Luisa didn’t notice they had come to a more lavishly decorated hallway, with doors spaced wide apart. Michael leans forward to a retina scanner and ushers her into the room.

She waits until the door closes behind her before she rushes forward and scoops her patient into her arms. “I was hoping it wouldn’t be you.”

Rose shakes against her.

* * *

Many years ago, there was a woman that uttered a prophecy. The God King forbade the words to ever be repeated, killed all the witnesses, and made sure no one knew that there was a way even the immortal, all-powerful God King could be killed. _By your own child's hand, you shall perish_ , it had said. One servant overhearing the woman and scuttling away in time would one day save them all.

Magda had passed it on to her twin daughters; Anezka didn’t make it out of the palace, strung up by her throat in the kitchens to send a message, but Petra did. She carried the message straight to the resistance.

It explains why pregnant consorts never make it out of the palace again.

And that’s what Luisa is here for. If Rose truly is pregnant, and not just suffering a terrible stomach bug, she won’t see the end of the night.

She sinks to her knees at the edge of the bed and presses her face to Rose’s abdomen. It’s impossible to breathe; her insides are folding in on themselves with horror. Being here, in this room, and feeling the frailty of Rose makes it all the more real: the God King took her and kept her, like a bird in a cage.

 _Did he break your wings?_ , she wonders.

It’s the first time Luisa gets to see the love of her life since she was so rudely snatched away from her parents’ home the night before their wedding, and rather than getting to hold and comfort her, she is checking her vitals and measuring her temperature.

One touch to her stomach, skin-to-skin, and she _knows_. Something feels inherently wrong, like what she imagines a black hole would feel like.

The pregnancy test confirms it.

They don’t cry. They don’t get angry. Rose seems to both shrink and swell in size at the same time; the last bit of light is taken from her eyes, but it is replaced with cold burning.

“Get me out of here,” she whispers, and Luisa nods, sliding her hand into Rose’s.

“That’s why I’m here.”

Over the three centuries that the God King has already reigned, only two pregnant consorts ever managed to escape their fate. Temporarily. They were both killed eventually, relentlessly pursued by all the God King’s might.

But Luisa will make sure no one ever lays a hand on Rose again. Luisa, backed by the resistance. They have been planning this for ages.

Before Michael can turn to her when she opens the door, Luisa has wrapped her arm around his throat, to choke him out. He struggles against her, but she is stronger than she looks. Her willpower is a force of nature.

It is incredibly satisfying to let him thud to the floor.

“We have about a five-minute-head start before they’ll know something’s wrong. Come on.” Luisa takes Rose’s hand in her own again and pulls her along. She has memorized the map of the palace, put together through three generations of servant women. Jane has lost both her grandmother and mother to this cruel, unforgiving place, but they both sacrificed themselves to the greater good.

Luisa now knows exactly where to lead Rose. They turn around corners, run down corridors, cross through rooms to take a shortcut. The scenery around them is a blur; Luisa focuses on what she can hear through the pounding of her pulse in her ears and the map she keeps in her mind.

When they get to the window that will let them out into the garden at the best possible place — furthest away from the guards while also _just_ outside of the security cameras’ reach — an alarm goes off in the palace and down the hall a door bursts open revealing agitated guards.

“Go, find Kristen!” Luisa commands as she pushes Rose through the window. Anything to save a godly son or daughter to fulfill the prophecy, so instead of climbing out after her, she turns around. Balls her fists and faces the guards.

She hears Rose cry out for her, but tunes her out as she springs forward.

* * *

The fight is over within minutes, but those minutes were crucial. If all went well, if Rose ran like hell, she’ll be with Kristen now, and that means she’s about to be whisked away never to be found by the God King. The clasp of iron cuffs around her wrists feels like triumph.

Two of them drag her away, while the rest now bolt out the window to chase after the escaped consort. Luisa slackens in their grip, smiling with her accomplishment. There is some struggle in her left, but not now. Now, she must wait, bide her time, count down the seconds until she finally gets to see the man that ruined everything.

She is pushed down hard to the floor within the throne room, the tiles cold against her knees. She slumps forward, shoulders bowed, hair hanging in front of her face. He is coming closer. The strength of his power on her increases exponentially, pressing in on her harder, suffocating. Only the implant keeps her from obeying his wishes and cowering on the floor like vermin, weeping and begging for her life.

He isn’t as tall as she had expected. That, more than anything about his appearance, strikes him. She is pretty sure she is taller than the God King. A fit of hysterical laughter threatens to burst from her lips, so she clenches her fists tight and takes in as deep breaths as she can manage.

“Look at me,” he commands, in a voice that at least matches his power and status more.

She meets his eyes straight-on and chuckles. “Recognize me?”

He cocks his head, so much like an innocent, curious animal that it looks completely out of place, and shrugs. “Did I kill your husband or something?”

“Wasn’t married to her yet.”

“Ah. Rose.” A smile touches to his lips, cruel and cold. “She was so much fun to break.”

Luisa trashes against the grip the two guards have on her shoulders. “You’re disgusting. You don’t even see it.”

He had been coming closer, prowling like a predatory animal, but then he stops and looks at her again. His eyebrow arches. “This one’s got a fiery will too. Let’s see how long you hold out.”

A slow smile spreads across her lips. The cuffs fall away from her wrists, limp. The guards fall beside her, limp. A look of shock and anger crosses Emilio’s face. “Hello, Father.”

She wasn’t sure if her magic would work on him, but she was prepared for a sacrifice mission, to give her half-sibling a chance to try it again in due time, knowing that they needed another way. But as Luisa reaches out her magic to him, she slips inside him easily.

Her Father is weak. She will never break by his hand.

He contorts, lashing out feebly with his own magic, that bumps time and again on the implant. Her defenses are shored up fully this time, not even allowing what she wants to slip out. She is a fortress. He is a stick in the wind.

All these centuries spent thinking he was a god... Luisa laughs as she lifts herself up to her feet. All the doors lock simultaneously, although most the guards have now slipped from the God King’s control on them and stand by confused, and unwilling to come to his defense.

She is the predator now, stalking closer. Vengeance shall be hers. But not yet. “I have waited so long to make you pay for what you have done to my mother, this kingdom and its people, Rose... I think I’ll take my time with you.” She snaps her fingers and he is jolted back hard, bound onto his throne by invisible chains. Veins bulge in his throat, his face reddens.

Luisa eases off the tension and waves her hand. “I’ll give you back your voice, so everyone can hear you scream. My will, Father? It is the force that shall undo the very creation of you.”

“I will kill you!” he shouts, the shrill bellows of a small man.

“No. Your reign of terror is over.” Luisa takes a flourished bow. “ _By your own child’s hand, Father, you shall perish._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I have two polls on my twitter (@LionKayrey) going atm to decide what I'll be writing next, now that this week is over, so do go check them out and vote. :)


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